


mutatio

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: All are probably gay, And Clint, Angst, Blood, Drugs, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Homosexuality, Hurt Loki, M/M, Magic Powers, Male Original Character - Freeform, Multi, OC, Poor Bucky, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, S.H.E.I.L.D is okay, Shapeshifting, Stucky - Freeform, Suicide, Thor Odinson and bruce banner friendship, clint is cool, deaf!Clint, hurt a lot of characters, i don’t know what i’m doing, loki is still a little shit, peter Parker & shuri & Loki friendship, religion references, steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes friendship, they’re gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam Brooke is a special boy, he just doesn’t know it yet.After getting caught up in the rampage of a  psycho gods plan to other throw the world, and getting hurt in the process, he chooses to help the avengers in their plot to destroy him but, not really.The invasion was just one of the many fights to come that Sam will have before he even gets close to the avengers.But once he does, what will happen next?





	mutatio

Once, a long time ago, before religion became a chain. Before magic became a curse. Before luck became a jinx. Before time passed its first second and before the world tree spun its first thread, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
Colour was nonexistent. No black or white painted the vast skies of emptiness. There were no skies. Horizon wasn’t even in the vocabulary yet, but what was a vocabulary? Huh?  
It’s confusing, but a important detail of the past. Like, Light and darkness were also absent ‘back then’. They had not been ‘invented’, yet. Same with temperature. Never cold, never hot. Wind? What was wind? Rain? Snow? Hail? What were those?  
There was nothing.

But, if there was nothing in the beginning then, how was the world made today? No one was there, nothing was there! Who could have done it? Who made our trees, painted our skies, sewed our bodies together? If there was no one...  
Well, I lied, there was one man.  
A man with skin the colour of today’s dark skies and eyes filled with the colours of the suns dawn. Their body was frail, skinny. An artist. No blemishes, no freckles, no wrinkles. He was ageless but, if he wished so, the man could die. And he wanted to die.  
The man was lonely. There was no one. Nothing. Just him. Him.  
He was sick of it.

The quite, the blandness, the constant normalness of it all. He hated it.But what would he do? How would he lift his dampened spirits and make everything....bright?  
How.

The man thought for a long time.

‘Snap’

He had an idea.

So, after another century in our time passed, he spent his time thinking and planning. He wanted his world to be perfect. It had to be.

After another two years, he decided to paint. 

Brushing a dark finger across the empty space, a bright colour strode with it. Like a brush to a canvas. He painted the universe in two centuries.  
The Milky Way was painted in under forty-five years. The realms? Twelve years. Planets? Six hours. The sun, stars, galaxies and asteroids? Two days. And life was created in only four hours. People? Two minutes.  
The man made a world in his image. One where he would never be lonely.Never again.

He even experimented a little.

He mixed colours and made new ones to try. Swapped brush sizes to make the dinosaurs.  
Created trees, plants and animals with a single stroke. Made songs by tapping the edge of his brush against the canvas to make a beat.  
He did everything. And, yes, he messed up once in a while. Created diseases by random drops of paint. Invented evil mixing every colour together. Caused natural disasters by punching the canvas every time he got frustrated.  
How do you think the dinosaurs died?  
But, anyway, yes, he messed up sometimes, everyone does. You can’t blame him for being human. It just happens. And he always felt guilty for it.

So, with every mistake made, he came up with a solution. 

When disease spread, he made a cure. If evil took over, the man brought good. Every time he got angry, and destroyed life, he made another one.  
He was the master of his own world. His mistakes could be made right...and if they weren’t, he’d find a way. He always would.  
But this is not what the stories about...  
The man created many things. Many glorious, marvellous, beautiful things. He loved them all but, there was always one creation that stood out above the rest. One he treasured dearly.  
The Duo Facies.  
A breed that could manipulate the way they, and others, looked. Had the power to travel the world in less than a second with a thought. Create things out of thin air with a simple snap! All exotic looking. Strange and developed better than other breeds the man had made. Beautiful.  
The man watched over them carefully. Always making sure that disease, and any other disaster, stayed clear of their pure innocents. Helping them keep the breed alive and healthy for many years. Giving them fruit when they were starving. Bring water in a drought. Casting fires when all was cold.

He helped them live....but it was all in vain...  
The man was forced away from his precious creations after another disease, his paintings called it smallpox, was spread. Killing hundreds of innocents. That would not do.  
To obsessed with finding a cure for his other creations, he momentarily forgot about the duo facies. Not even giving them a second thought as he slaves away at trying to find a cure for his mistake.  
He never did...  
And when the man returned to his beloved creation he was struck down in grief at the sight. They’d all perished...All killed. Slaughtered by man.  
He grieved.  
‘How could someone do this?’ He cried.’kill innocents for nothing but a sport? For fun?’  
‘To mantel their heads above the fireplace of their wooden homes? Why? To show off?’ The man screamed, gripping a green dipped brush between his two hands.

‘why must man kill? Why...did I not give enough rain? Enough soil? Enough grain?’ The man stumbled over to his wall of paintings. Tears wetting his dark, sorrowful face.  
‘What did I do wrong....?’ He watched his painting with a straight face as the men who had killed his perfect breed laughed with joy. Empty Beer cans littering the ground. Gunpowder and fresh blood still hanging in the air.  
The man sobbed.  
‘If a man must be this cruel...then what more do they need of me? They can build their own fires, grow their own food.’ He scrunched up his nose.’Kill for survival. What more do they need of me...?’ The man thought. The paintbrush still tightly gripped in his shaking hands. Both stained with paint used to help save the same people who had destroyed his own creations.  
He had enough.

Closing his eyes and taking a breath, the man looked at the canvas with determination and quickly splattered the board in random spots with the green paint. His eyes turning the colour of a raging sunset as he slaved and cried over the painting. His broken heart fuelling him for his last, and final, creation...  
The man's fast movements slowly turned to a slow swipe before he stopped. His chest heaving with sadness and anger. Green paint dripping down his face along with sweat and tears. Staining his dark skin permanently.  
But it was done.  
His last creation.  
The man stepped back to admire his piece with a slight fascination. Tilting his head to the right, then to the left, and right again.  
He smiled.  
‘It is done.’

The paintbrush fell lazily from his hands. Green paint splattering on his bare feet as it hit the ground. It’s echo rattling in his ears and vibrating around his empty chest.  
He took a breath and fell to his knees. Tears still quickly falling down his ageless face. His perfect lips turned into a pure smile.

‘It’s my time.’

He was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you liked it. This is the first thing I’ve written since July. It is an oc related story but, what can you do? I just hope I can finish it tho  
> First chapter might be confusing but, it’ll make sense later! I promise!  
> Well, I hope you are excited for the next chapter and can’t wait !
> 
> -comments are welcome-
> 
> See ya!


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